Death On The Wing
by sevenholypathstohell
Summary: A pair of supremely talented young pilots from opposing sides heed the call when their nations go to war. As the bloodshed continues and unseen forces play their hand, they must fight not just for their lives, but for their humanity and their loved ones. An Ace Combat 6 fanfic.


**Chapter One: Desperate Hope**

 _November 24th, 0730hrs_  
 _Vitoze, Khesed_

The F-16V rocketed down the runway, the first of the last bastion of defenders. Emmerian Air Force Lieutenant Marcus 'Shamrock' Lampert pulled up at 250 knots, double and triple-checking his comms.

"Garuda 2 here, I am airborne. Waiting on you, lead."

He was joined soon after by an F-15E and the shriek of its massive twin engines. Lieutenant Natalie 'Talisman' Jacobs adeptly manuveured into formation with Shamrock.

"Garuda 1 is airborne, I've joined up with my wingman. Let's get hunting."

Two other squadrons fell into position alongside, the 15th Fighter Squadron 'Windhover', and the 2nd Naval Attack Squadron 'Avalanche', temporarily assigned to the Air Force. Together with 28th FS Garuda, they formed the REAF's 8th Air Division, and as of now were Emmeria's last stand against the Estovakian invaders.

"Those bombers have passed through the mountains and are still on course for Vitoze."

Their AWACS 'Ghost Eye' said.

"They're here..." Shamrock added.

"Head back to base if you need any supplies, we have intel on Stovie reinforcements coming in, ETA 10 mikes."

"Roger. Better make short work of the runners."

They spotted the first Stovie squadron on radar right away- a massive Tu-130 'Bicker' heavy bomber escorted by several ancient looking F-4s.

"I have visual on a bomber and escorts at 20 miles." Talisman said. "Shamrock, take those fighters down. I'll kill the bomber."

"Roger, Talisman. Heading over to engage." Ever the loyal wingman, Shamrock drew off the fighters, quickly shooting down the lead escort and allowing Talisman free rein with the bomber. Coming in from it's 12 o' clock, she fired a pair of AIM-9 IR missiles, both of them connecting with the cockpit.

"Score one for the good guys."

"Is Estovakia trying to raze our entire country?!" Shamrock growled. "They mean to remove every last chance of a rebellion-damn!" Talisman yelped. One of the escorting F-4s had swung round and locked her plane up for a missile hit. She pulled hard right in an attempt to lose her pursuer.

"Break left, Talisman. I have this guy."

"Negative, I'll show him his ass." As the enemy pilot moved to follow, she deployed her airbrakes and looped up, over, and behind the pursuing Phantom. The rookie Phantom driver realized his quarry was behind him just as Talisman's missile slammed into his engines. With the other escorts down, Garuda was free to pursue the remaining attackers.

"That sucker was mine." Shamrock said in a mock whine.

"Relax, pal. That's two bogies for each of us, and there's a lot more where they came from." Talisman replied and pointed Northward.

"Stay frosty, Garuda. We've got two more squads of bombers coming your way, bearings 300 and 015 at 80 miles and closing. Ignore the escorts, take down the bombers before they reach the city." Ghost Eye said.

"Yeah, tell us that when you're down here and they're sending fighters up your ass."

"Talisman, look out!" Shamrock almost screamed through his headset.

On gut instinct, she broke left, milliseconds away from being gunned down by another fighter. Fortunately, the bogey charged straight past her without landing a hit. Talisman reversed direction, silently cursing herself for her lapse in concentration as she gave chase. Talisman's F-15 had been equipped with F119s, the same engines used by the F-22. These propelled her jet to a blistering top speed of Mach 2.7; one thrust was all it needed to get in perfect position behind the F-4 and she let rip with her own cannon. 25mm tracers punched through the Stovie's wing, completely detaching it and putting it in a fatal spin. Another customization specific to Talisman's jet, she'd simply swapped out the standard M61 Vulcan for the bigger GAU-12.

"Garuda 1, guns kill." She announced. "Better catch up, number 2."

"Garuda 2 splash one. Watch your six, flight lead. I'm almost to you."

Just then, static was heard over the open comms channel.

"It's coming from Gracemeria's radio station, the Stovies must have taken over the airwaves." Another pilot noted. The static cleared up, and a crisp Estovakian-accented voice declared, "Vitoze soldiers of Emmeria, throw down your weapons and surrender!"

"This is... the enemy's propaganda broadcast." A female pilot called 'Lanner' hissed. The broadcaster continued, "Emmerian continental forces have succumbed to the might of our armies, and wisely accepted defeat. Our merciful government has taken it upon themselves to restore order to your former capital, Gracemeria, and yet you seem intent on wasting away your final days, playing futile war games!"

"Damn it! What a bunch of lies!" Shamrock growled.

"Don't let them distract you. Focus on the task at hand and show them we mean business." Ghost Eye asserted.

"Work with our radar facilities on the ground, they should be able to help you out."

Both pilots grit their teeth and hit the throttle, catching up to the second flight of 2 TU-130s and their escorts. Garudas 1 & 2 locked up their respective targets with Amraams and fired away. After detailing Shamrock to down the bombers, Talisman pitched up expecting one of her targets to be gaining altitude. _Spot on._ He'd already put a good 2000 feet between them, and was nosing over in an attempt to get the drop on her, but she'd caught him red-handed _._ After treating him to Sidewinder sandwich, she levelled off to assess the situation. 5 kills so far, with 510 rounds for her cannon, 176 Sidewinders, 56 Amraams. With the ground radars in position to help increase their missiles' accuracy, this was turning into a bit of a slaughter. _More than enough to handle what they're throwing at us unless they send their aces in._

"Woohoo! Onto the next one!" Shamrock cheered as he destroyed another bomber.

"That's 3 bombers down." Windhover commented. "Expect more of a fight up ahead."

The third group was better escorted, led by a fabulous gold-painted F-16A. Its pilot, a lieutenant who went by the callsign 'Edinorog' announced, "All aircraft, hang back, I'm going to recon the airspace. Two of our other squadrons have been downed so we could be running into some heavy resistance. Stay sharp, boys." He throttled up, scanning for hostiles. He didn't have to search long, for charging right at him was a single F-15. Before he could react, the hostile launched a single missile and barrelled right. Missile warnings blaring in his ear, he pulled left, deploying chaff to shake the missile off. Not nearly enough. The Amraam entered the 40 foot kill radius and its proximity fuse detonated, splattering shrapnel against the F-16's wings and engine. Not a fatal hit, but enough to knock out his landing gear. One way or another, this would be his last sortie on this plane.

Edinorog turned round to get a fix on his attacker...and his jaw dropped. Both bombers and his wingmen had been blown to bits. _So, these Emmerians can punch above their weight_ , he thought. Just as the same F-15 from before blew past him, he wrenched his craft towards it, initiating a turning fight. At this altitude, he figured his F-16 would have a slight agility advantage over the heavier Eagle in a lead pursuit, but his controls had started to feel sluggish. He had to end this fast. As the F-15 came up on his HUD, the lieutenant's eyes glinted with evil, vengeful delight. The Eagle's roaring engines rang the dinner bell for the bloodhounds that were his IRs. The missile lock buzzed, and he made to press the 'fire' button. A split second before that happened, his canopy shattered under the weight of a tremendous cannon fusillade. That was to be his fatal mistake: he'd completely forgotten to account for the wingman. The stricken Viper simply fell out of the sky, taking its lifeless driver with it. "Awesome kill, Shamrock. Thanks."

"Oh, so _now_ you need my help."

"Hey now, I could've easily shaken that guy off. F-16's got nothing on this baby in a vertical."

"Are you seriously suggesting I can't keep up with you?"

"Your plane may be top of the line, but it's simple math," Talisman snidely remarked, " 2 engines on 1."

"Whatever you say."

"Hey stay sharp, boys and girls. We've got another flight from the North. There's quite a few this time." Ghost Eye announced. 5 bombers thundered down from the North, escorted by a flight of Mirage 2000s. The Emmerian fighters shot off after this final wave, anxious to end the attack. "Talisman, got something on radar at your 11 o' clock low. Can you ID?" Ghost Eye asked. Talisman rolled her plane half left to see what Ghost Eye had seen. She needn't have, for a radar operator came screaming over the radio.

"This is Boa 5! Requesting immediate air cover! They're taking out our radars, send cov-" the signal cut to hash. A squadron of Estovakian F/A-18Fs had sneaked in under the Enmerians' radar and were indeed bombing the radar network.

"Shit." Talisman muttered "All other pilots, stay on the bombers, I'm going after the strike planes. Shamrock, do NOT let any of these guys through."

She broke formation and descended upon the Hornets like a raging dragon. Another Amraam swarm cut them to pieces, leaving two pilots to escape the pursuing Talisman. The first one banked left and then right, trying to shake off the Emmerian on his tail. Talisman saw through it, his plan was to draw her into his wingman's line of fire. As if to confirm her hunch, a line of tracers flashed across her bow from the other Hornet. _Lucky that time._ If she wasn't out by the next turn, she'd be dead meat. After loosing a successful Amraam at the first Stovie, she quickly pulled into a climb to lose her pursuer. He somehow anticipated this, and shot off a quick burst from his cannon. Bullets streaked into her wing and tail.

"Noooo..." Talisman groaned.

 _Warning, missile lock._ 'Bitchin Betty' bitched, as usual. Thinking fast, she dispensed her flares, right in the path of the chasing Hornet. They effectively blinded him, buying valuable time for her to cut her engines and cause the Stovie to overshoot.

"Fox 2, you sonovabitch." She hissed. She launched both of her Sidewinders, and the Stovie was blasted to hell. Panting hard, Talisman tested her controls.

"This is Garuda One, all strike aircraft are down, but I've taken a hit. My left rudder is gone and I'm having a fuel leak. Will need to RTB. How're you guys doing with the bombers?"

While Talisman had her hands full, Shamrock had thorough minced the bomber reinforcements. With Windhover and Avalanche having annihilated the escorts, he'd weaved in and out of them effortlessly and sent them tumbling out of the sky.

"That's the last of the bombers. We somehow managed to plug every last one of them." Windhover's second wingman Saker breathed with relief. Ghost Eye replied "You guys handled it well, even without our ace in the hole."

"Heaping all that praise on us is getting me a little too red in the face to go back home."

"Roger that, Avalanche. I'll just report you as gunned down and missing in action."

"Really now? You gonna throw me under the bus?" Talisman growled.

"Hahaha! That's pretty harsh, Ghost Eye." Shamrock chimed in. Windhover rounded off the conversation, "All planes, it's time to get on home now. Let's try to make it back for supper, aye?"

- _0900hrs-_

Talisman dismounted from her plane, holding one hand to her aching neck. As she did, her technician assessed the jet, eyeing her with the occasional glance. Her shoulder-length brunette hair was neatly bunned up, but still did not leave much to the imagination.

"All pilots, fall in! Let's get a quick headcount here and a debrief!" Ghost Eye yelled over the noise of the hangar. She grunted and paced over to where the other pilots had gathered. Major Nicolas Renarde looked like a stereotypical computer jock with his glasses on, but underneath lay one of the foremost analytical mind.

"The enemy bombers have been intercepted, and enemy airpower around the Khesed perimeter has been significantly weakened. Our forces are taking advantage of this opportunity to arrange a swift counterattack at the Estovakian forward ops base."

Talisman moaned under her breath.  
"We expect the best from you, even if you have the mother of all neckaches."

That earned a few chuckles. She could only roll her eyes as the crowd was dimissed and they made for the mess hall. It was the first real combat sortie for the pilots since the shameful retreat from Gracemeria 2 and a half months ago. In that time, the Emmerian Armed Forces had been decimated- 8 Fighter Wings reduced to merely 3.

Under the intensity of the Stovies' blitzkrieg tactics, the Emmerians' defenses faltered in each stronghold one by one: Fort Norton, Ragno, San Loma, Ortara. In the face of flagging morale and dwindling supplies, the Emmerians cut their losses and moved to Khesed island, well beyond the range of the enemies' missile attacks. There, they had the city of Vitoze fortified and governed under martial law. The sudden spike in population nearly crippled the town and even worse, made it a prime target for air raids. Fortunately, this new victory would dent Estovakia's long-range strike capabilities, and bolster morale for the allied troops. As such, the mood was light on the base that day. A small victory, but a win nonetheless.

For Talisman, the celebrations could wait. Not that she was a downer by nature, she was unaccustomed to the good cheer of naturalized Emmerians. While this was her birth country, a messy divorce saw her following her mother to Osea out of reach of the Ulysses strikes, but also wrapped around the finger of her abusive mother. Having grown up on the legends of Cipher and Mobius 1, her lifelong dream had been to fly the most advanced planes, especially the F-22. When war came knocking on Osea's door, she jumped at the chance to sign up for the OADF, but was rejected simply on account of her age. By the time she'd turned 18 and signed up for basic military, the Razgriz had already been making a name for themselves. This only served to focus her even more on her dreams; not even the grueling trials of Officer Candidate Course measured up to the daily torture from her mother.

Alas, the war drew to a close just as she finished airman training and was posted to an official squadron. Still, she continued to serve until her mother passed away suddenly in mid-2011, a fishbone lodged in her throat. With no reason left to stay and pursue the 'Osean Dream', she packed her bags and returned to Emmeria, only to find her father had become infirm and was staying with her uncle. With little family left to call on, she'd dedicate 100% of her life to the military, saving what she could for her ailing father. Thus, she elected to fly for the Emmerian military, managing to keep her rank of lieutenant and that was the position she was in when the Estovakians stormed in. Returning to her bunk, she changed out of her flight suit and slipped into bed, neck on an iced towel. Before long, sleep overcame her, and her dreams were ones of steel and fire.

 **A/N: Hi peeps, this is my first attempt at a major fanfic of any sort, so it'll take quite a while to complete owing to my real-world commitments (I'm in the Army, believe it or not). That and I also write other stuff on the side for eyes only heh. Anyway, I decided I'd start with the second mission as I felt it'd be easier to break Garuda in, she's a bit of an uptight fella given her history but all that is about to change. I've actually completed the next two chapters more or less, but depending on the comments/suggestions I get for this (please and thank you very much) edits may be in order. Thanks for reading, and hopefully I can churn out the next couple of chapters soon!**

 **Sidenote: The TU-130 is a Yuktobanian copy of the B-52 in the same way the real world TU-4 is just a B-29. Someone may or may not be doing the Stovies a favor ;)**


End file.
